


look low in the horizon

by stiction



Series: Orion's Belt [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Hammocks, Outdoor Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/pseuds/stiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For half a minute she can do nothing but breathe in the gentle swing, back and forth in the cradle of rope and soft cloth. The stars fade in and out of focus with the air in her lungs. </p><p>"Come here," whispers Kanaya, and Rose turns her head, leans into a kiss that feels like dipping her face into cool water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	look low in the horizon

"I'm going to get some air," Kanaya says, leaning on the couch as she gets up off the rug.

Rose is too preoccupied with the imprint of fiber loops on the backs of two tan calves to realize that Kanaya hasn't left yet because she's waiting. The others haven't really noticed, absorbed in the movie still playing or each other or the methodical emptying of packets of Gushers onto the coffee table to sort them into a kaleidoscopic mesh of color.

It's beautiful. Rose worries about John when they smoke.

She gets off the couch slowly; it feels like leaving something custom-fit to her body, and she has to resist the urge to lay back down into her divot. Kanaya touches her shoulder with a finger, sparks underneath her bare skin, and she stands, feet dancing around her sandals for a few seconds before they slide home with a comfortable sound of skin on foam.

They make it to the stairs before someone notices.

"You guys can't leave!" John shouts from the middle of the room, too loud, and Rose almost has a heart attack.

Everyone turns to watch, five pairs of unfocused eyes settling on her at the base of the stairs and Kanaya a few steps up.

"We're not leaving," Kanaya says, and Rose blesses her for having a voice. "We're not leaving. I just want some air."

"Yeah," she adds. "As am I."

Hands dangerously close to dumping Gushers all over his lap and the carpet, John leans over the little table.

"Okay," he laughs, and everyone starts in when he can't stop, quiet chuckles from the other couch and endless giggling from the bowl chair in front of the TV. It's hard to tell whether they're laughing at John or her or whatever part of whatever movie is playing. "Okay."

"Okay," Rose echoes, laughing too as she turns back towards the stairs and follows Kanaya to the top.

John's house is empty, the kitchen linoleum creaking under her feet.  Even after dark, the air is thicker aboveground and she can feel the humidity cling to her skin, lingering beneath her clothes and under her bangs.

"C'mere," Kanaya murmurs, hands grasping at the ties on the back of Rose's dress.

When it comes, the kiss is thick and hardly gentle. Rose reels. Her head is warm and the feeling moves straight down her back in one long shiver that ends in her fingertips, just as they brush down the insides of Kanaya's wrists. She walks backwards, the floorplans of John's house long-implanted somewhere in her mind but muddled now, her feet almost catching on the half-step up into the kitchen.

It takes a minute for Kanaya to unlock the sliding glass door, the clunking of the lock resounding in silence and overlapped by giggling, half-muffled by Rose's hands. It slides open at last, and the summer seeps in - washes over her skin like stepping from shade to sunlight, though the only light is the moon and the spotlight in the neighbor's backyard. Rose takes one breath and knows that her shoes need to go, an instinct that proves perfect when she steps off the porch.

"Oh," she sighs, and turns, heels pressing into a hundred and one clipped blades of grass.

"Oh?"

All Rose can do is smile, shutting her eyes and letting the night sink in.

"I think it hit me," she says, once she can smell patchouli and Kanaya's breath is shifting the hair around her face, mixing with the small breeze. "A lot stronger than normal."

It's hard for her arms to move but after a moment they do, feeling out in front of herself and meeting cotton and hipbones, sliding down to denim then pockets then thighs. Her face is tilted upwards by two warm hands, and another wet warm kiss slips past her lips and flushes her cheeks.

"There's a hammock," Kanaya tells her gently, hands on her shoulders and spinning her around.

It's true--there is a hammock, tucked into the back corner of the yard between two trees.

Rose tumbles into it as soon as she's near enough, Kanaya's hand slick in hers, and for half a minute she can do nothing but breathe in the gentle swing, back and forth in the cradle of rope and soft cloth. The stars fade in and out of focus with the air in her lungs.

"Come here," whispers Kanaya again, and Rose turns her head, leads into a kiss that feels like dipping her face into cool water.

Gentle doesn't last when her skin is humming. Rose pulls her in close, belly to belly and where her shirt rides up she can feel Kanaya's fingers, flat palms up the line of her back. It's hard to focus on where they are, where her own fingers are going, but she trails from the soft hair at the nape of Kanaya's neck down, further down to the thin belt of her shorts.

Kanaya laughs into her mouth, hiccups into a moan when she gets the buckle open, eases the zipper down. She's not, and Rose's brows knit together, for a moment she's unsure if this is just another level of high that she hasn't reached before, but there's nothing between her fingers and the dark hair between Kanaya's legs.

She slides her hand further, confirms it when her fingers meet slickness and Kanaya shivers into the touch, spreads her legs a little wider.

"God," she says, the word fuzzy on her tongue, and Kanaya tips her head to lick at her throat, stuttering breath when Rose fits two fingers inside her, easy as ever, as the days they've spent lying for hours before trying anything.

On her neck Kanaya's teeth scrape lightly at first, latching down when Rose shifts her hand, pushes clumsy at Kanaya's shorts to get more room to thrust. Rhythm is difficult, the hammock rocking as soon as she tries to set pace, but Kanaya is already grasping at her shoulders, sucking a hard bruise into her neck where her hair will cover it.

Kanaya pushes up against her hand, whispering please and other things that Rose can't make out, her mother tongue that she bites down on when Rose pulls her fingers out, instead strokes light and fast between her legs until her thighs tremble.

Her pulse is thrumming, she moves her fingers in time with the pulse of the stars and when Kanaya comes apart she digs her nails into the back of Rose's shirt and chokes on summer air.

"I can see every star," Kanaya murmurs finally, breathing heavy, Rose's hand sliding gentle now.

Rose understands but she knows there's no way she can explain the way the statement resounds in her chest, so she leans in to kiss Kanaya's bitten lip, the soft warm flush of her cheeks.

Kanaya shifts, overbalances but catches herself as Rose forgets to laugh, rocking away.

"Move up a bit," Kanaya says, hovering over her before she settles on her knees, inching carefully back until she can hook her arms under Rose's legs. When she cranes her head to look, Rose can see Kanaya's body curved to follow the bow of the hammock, legs bent to fit, and even so it's a delicate balance.

The hands on her thighs slide up under her dress, ticklish on her hips when the night meets her skin. A bite, another aching bruise that she will find for proof tomorrow morning, still eons away.

Kanaya's mouth finds the seam of her panties, fingers sly on her hips to draw them down.

She doesn't think about the neighbors, or John downstairs sorting boxes of fruit Gushers just to shove them all into his mouth, or Dave who will undoubtedly tip his shades to her when they return, flushed and stumbling.

Kanaya licks into her, tender and hot and her eyes are on the sky again, the sway of branches set against the cloudless moonless swath of stars and inky blackness, and Rose can't find the breath to say anything. Above her blinking into focus is the summer triangle, visible if she strains to pick the three points out, visible if she points with one hand, the other sliding through Kanaya's messy hair, tender and hot and even when she shuts her eyes she can see.

There is weight in the air, summer air that sits in her throat and cloys, weight in the flat of Kanaya's tongue against her shaking axis, and weight in the hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks, damp with humidity and sweat.

She can feel it coming, rising from below her navel until her back rounds out, hands clenching at the rope ties of the hammock. It's so rough under her fingers, and every part of her that Kanaya touches tingles in the sudden aftershocks, her heart slowing, feeling washed-out.

Kanaya rests her head on Rose's stomach as her breathing slows, and Rose strokes her hair back into place, strokes her hair a hundred times over.

"We should go back in," Kanaya says at last, easing off of Rose and the hammock. "John will be worrying."

She holds a hand out to help Rose stumble to her feet. The grass still feels like a thousand tiny tendrils on her soles, and in the morning she will find green stains between her toes.

"Wait." Rose stops before the sliding door, a hand on Kanaya's elbow. "Let's sit for a while."

Last year John's dad put a porch swing together; it's there that Rose sits down to rest her head on Kanaya's shoulder, just to feel the sweet warm haze of the night and to forget that there is only a month left until she leaves.


End file.
